If You Are Ready
by allred12
Summary: A oneshot about Katniss discovering some unwelcome news. She goes to Haymitch and finds just what she is looking for. Rated only for minimal language.


Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games; Suzanne Collins does.

**If You Are Ready**

_No, this could not be happening_, I think as I raise my head from the sink. I splash water on my face once more, trying to wake myself from this nightmare. But it cannot be a nightmare. My dreams usually focus on an arena or watching Prim die or watching a mine explode in my face and then instantly switch to silver parachutes exploding in the hands of is not a normal nightmare, which leads me to believe that this is even worse, because what I am feeling now, what I know to be true has to be real.

I look around the kitchen. I suddenly feel like breaking something-anything. I grab a mug that is sitting next to the sink. Peeta and I drank hot chocolate from it the night before as we sat on our porch, watching District 12 rise slowly from the ashes around us.

Last night had been so peaceful and quiet. The heartache is persistent, the faces of Prim and others always flit through the back of my mind, but last night I had felt as happy as someone who lost nearly everything can. I notice that I am nervously turning the mug over and over in my hands as I think about what a quick emotional turnaround has taken place in not even twelve hours of time.

I raise the mug above my head and throw and into the sink. It shatters into a thousand tiny, beige colored shards that stand starkly against the shiny, silver surface of the sink.

"Katniss! Are you okay?" I hear Peeta yell from upstairs.

"Shit!" I hiss under my breath. I hear him jumping out of bed, and walking around the room, probably trying to find some clothes to put on. I can move faster than him, but the distance from our bedroom to the kitchen is not very long at all.

Without responding, I run to the front door and throw it open. I am just in an undershirt and shorts, but the weather is not too terribly cold. I run from the porch, taking the steps two at a time. I will not be able to go into town. I do not care too much what others say, but my appearance will be deemed unacceptable nonetheless.

So, I run to the closest place I know and start banging on the door. Surprisingly he answers.

"And what are you doing up so early, sweetheart. I thought you and the other lovebird would be locked up until noon" , he slurrs.

I push past him and force my way into his house. He does not object. I make my way to the kitchen, the place where he normally sits. He already has one bottle of white liquor nearly drained.

"Really Haymitch, it isn t even eight in the morning" , I sigh as I move the bottle away. It s my usual role to chide him for drinking too much, and for a glorious moment, my problem at hand is forgotten.

"Yeah, I know. I was under the impression that I wouldn t be bothered by you or blondie for a while" , he huffs.

And here it comes. The weight of my issues are once again solidly on my shoulders. I drop my head less than delicately on the kitchen table; the sound and accompanying pain provide a great distraction.

I hear Haymitch move around and he sits at the table. "Um-are you okay?" he finally asks after a long pause.

"No" , I mumble into the table.

"What?"

I lift my head. "No" , I practically spit into his face.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

"Do you want to drink it away?" he asks as he sheepishly slides the nearly empty bottle across the table towards me.

"I don t think I should" , I mumble as I look at the bottle suspiciously, almost as if it is an animal which I m not sure is going to fight me back or not.

"What he doesn't know won t hurt him" , Haymitch says as he tries to capture my glance.

"So says you" , I fire back.

"Okay, so we won't talk" , he mumbles as he grabs his bottle and brings the neck to his lips. "I'll drink, you can stew; together we ll be a meal" , he finally utters.

I stare at him caustically. It s probably what I wanted anyways. Peeta always makes me talk things over. Talking isn't really my nature, and I much prefer to just silently muse over my issues. Haymitch and I are alike that way. If he respects my silence, I won't comment anymore on his drinking, at least for the time being.

My mind immediately goes Peeta and how he would react if he knew what I know. I can see him happy and smiling. As always, he isn't fazed by anything. The effortlessness with which he deals with life sometimes leaves me frustrated, and other times it leaves me in awe. A part of me wants him to know as well. I will probably confess as soon as I get home from here, wait for his arms to surround me as he smiles and mistakenly thinks my tears are happy. He has been asking me for this for years. When I finally said yes, I thought that I would have time on my side, but of course not. I don t think that Peeta's way with words helped in this situation, although it might have.

A part of me also wishes that my mother were here. When Haymitch told me that she wouldn't be returning, I honestly did not care. After my father died, her and I had never been close, but I can't help wanting her around at a time like this. It is probably natural when you are dealing with a crisis to want your mother.

Then my mind flies to Prim. She would be thrilled. She would be so happy for me and would eagerly anticipate the future and the role she would play. She would hug me and fix my hair and wipe my eyes. Who knows, she could have been married by now, lived in the Victor s Villiage next to Peeta and I. She could have had children and been such a loving mother.

I begin to cry thinking about the life she could have led.

"You still okay, there?" Haymitch asks when he notices the tears.

"No" , I finally say. He pushes his chair away from the table and goes over to grab a towel next to the kitchen sink.

"You better get it out before I get too drunk to care" , he says as he hands me the towel. I begin to wipe my face.

Good old Haymitch. I think that maybe it isn't so bad having only Haymitch to talk to. He's the closest thing I've had to a father since mine died. He isn't perfect, but perhaps he's just what I need.

"I'm pregnant", I announce lamely.

"Oh", Haymitch responds back just as lamely. Maybe I was wrong. "That's um-this is good right, or it isn't?" he stumbles and tries to discern from my facial expression.

"I'll just go home-" I say in a low tone as I begin to rise.

"No! You don't have to. We can talk if you need to", Haymitch says.

"Fine", I huff as I retake my seat.

"So, does Peeta know?" he asks.

"No, I kind of realized this morning, and well, I sort of lost it."

"I see."

"Do you?"

"No, not really Katniss. Why are you so upset?" he asks, giving me an almost pleading look.

"Because we aren't even two decades away from the war yet. The world isn't a stable place. We don't really have a leader. Everything seems just the same as it was before. What if there is another Hunger Games or another war. The chances are that this kid won't make it to adulthood, their life will be plagued with danger and loss and-" I started crying again after that.

Haymitch patted my shoulder comfortingly. "Katniss, I don't think you have to worry about it. I think everyone is tired like you are. No one wants another war in our lifetime. Just take a moment to be happy."

I sigh as I look at him. Haymitch, "I don't think I'm ready", I finally mumble as if I am embarrassed.

"Sweetheart", Haymitch laughs. "No one ever thinks they're ready."

I don't know how to respond and I feel almost embarrassed that he is laughing. He probably sees the change in my expressions because he stops laughing immediately.

"Listen, that boy you have at home, the one whose life you fought to preserve, he's ready, he's always been. He has taken care of you and made sure that you survived, do you really think he would stop doing that now? You need to go home and talk to him about this, because he will be there: for both of you. I'm here when you need me, but sweetheart, go home", he says as he starts walking to his front door. I follow, feeling as if I don't have a choice in the matter anyway. "I'll take you home", he says. We leave his house and begin a walk that seems way too short. I find myself at my front door, hesitating. "Well go on", he urges gruffly. I turn the knob and walk silently into my kitchen that, except for cleanliness, is nearly identical to Haymitch's. Peeta is waiting there.

"Oh my god, Katniss, are you okay, I heard something break and then you weren t down here-" , he notices the tears on my face then. "Are you hurt?" he asks as he rubs his hand down my shoulders and arms, searching for any injury. That's when he notices Haymitch still standing in our doorway.

"Haymitch, what happened? Is she okay?" he begs.

He just shrugs in response. "It's her job to tell you", he mumbles. He gives me one last fleeting smile that is filled with encouragement, then he is on his way.

"What do you have to tell me, Katniss?" he asks as worry causes his brow to crease.

I feel myself beginning to hyperventilate. I don't normally act like this, that's for sure. My reaction seems to have Peeta on edge.

"Katniss, please , he begs." I've scared him now, and I feel even worse about that.

I look toward the kitchen window and take a deep breath calming myself. "I-We re going to have a baby", I say with a watery smile.

a/n: First Hunger Games fanfic. I decided to go with a one shot, make it easy until I think I know the characters a little better. I hope you enjoyed, and I may decide to make this longer. Not sure. Please review.


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